


A Dark Countenance

by Amestris



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Post-Canon, was meant to be fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25075846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amestris/pseuds/Amestris
Summary: Tharkay looks at him sidelong with a small quirk of his lips and laughing eyes. "I would like to see anyone say anything to me while I'm in the company of so forbidding a countenance as yours."
Relationships: William Laurence/Tenzing Tharkay
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49





	A Dark Countenance

**Author's Note:**

> I guess first, a warning! Not betaed! Usually I wouldn't be so bothered, but this has been written in so many bits and pieces over so long that I can feel the tone and intensity just yo-yoing all over the place, so sorry, if you can too, but I really needed to get it out. Exorcise the ghost if you will. (I would love to edit it, but I've read it so many times now without being able to smooth it out, I can't read it anymore.)
> 
> Secondly, this has changed so so much since it was conceived as a crack-fic about how Laurence's smiles bring all the people to the yard, that I can't quite follow the trajectory of how we got here.
> 
> Thirdly - any tag suggestions, hit me up

"I was under the impression that you were accosted most frequently by the worst of characters."

Tharkay looks at him sidelong with a small quirk of his lips and laughing eyes. "I would like to see anyone say anything to me while I'm in the company of so forbidding a countenance as yours."

What does that mean? Laurence turns to ask for clarification but Tharkay is already turning away to knock on an office door and the moment is lost when they enter. The man behind the desk is an entirely displeasing sort, thin grey hair to match with a thin grey face and an incongruously huge body. He doesn't stand up when Tenzing introduces himself.

A heavy dislike for this rude and most likely useless bureaucrat settles in his gut and he finds himself looking closely at the man's beady eyes as Tharkay smoothly ignores the disrespect offered and instead turns to introduce Laurence to Mr. Jonathan Rathbone, his accent at its sharpest edge. Laurence nods, a brisk acceptance of the name belonging to the man and the man suddenly surges to his feet and grabs Tharkay's hand to shake somewhat over aggressively, before doing the same to Laurence although with a lot less enthusiasm.

He declines the seat offered, instead choosing to peruse the books and knick-knacks on the shelves by the door as Tharkay settles in to a one-sided discussion of Temeraire's proposals regarding new road width regulations. The shelves are unsurprisingly predominately full of books and the books are boring. He turns back to the conversation and immediately Tharkay takes a quick glance over his shoulder at him as if knowing his attention has moved. The conversation does not falter and he continues without pause, shuffling papers with quick long fingers. Laurence looks away from Tharkay, more familiar than any other he has known and instead focuses on Mr. Rathbone, looking and listening for any redeeming features.

The man had taken on a strange pink hue to his grey while Laurence's back had been turned, but now Laurence watches it drain slowly back to grey as his eyes flick constantly between Laurence and the papers Tharkay is laying out before him. Even the grey seems to be taking on a more grey tint and Tharkay stops for a moment to turn his head fully to look at Laurence. He feels the tension he didn't realise he'd been carrying in his jaw soften slightly at Tharkay's raised brows and half smile.

Tharkay turns abruptly back to Mr. Rathbone and brings the meeting to a swift close, thanking him for his time and expressing his pleasure that they had his support in such an important matter. He is beautiful and charming and beautiful in his charming and Laurence lets out a quick huff of breath at the stupid and pointless trail of his thoughts. The noise catches Mr. Rathbone's attention and he swallows noisily and clasps Tharkay's hand with both of his, nodding and smiling queasily. Laurence scowls promptly at the insincere smile, what was wrong with all of these narrow-minded people? Tharkay smiles brightly at Mr. Rathbone, also insincere but impossible to tell from the surface, before hustling him quickly out into the hallway.

"That went very well," Tharkay murmurs, "far better than I could possibly have imagined."

He gives him a smug, pleased look, and he can feel his heart flutter in response even if he's not sure what about it went well.

"Do you mind if we stop in at one more office before we go?"

Laurence does mind, but he would hardly deny Tharkay anything, particularly when he's alternating between his fierce hunting face and quick, fond glances at Laurence.

By the time they leave, they've visited another three offices and Laurence is cycling between frustration at the way people treat Tharkay, tedium from his boring day and a bizarre giddy buoyancy from having pleased Tharkay so much. Although what it is he has done is still unknown.

They have dinner and too much wine together in Tharkay's room at the hotel and Laurence wonders absently why they aren't downstairs in the dining room. Tharkay is usually very fastidious and proper when publically in London, the very picture of a British Gentleman but for the undeniable heritage in his features. He's hardly going to raise the matter though, he's become accustomed to having Tenzing just to himself (and Temeraire of course, but that's different) and Tharkay's dishevelled lazy sprawl across the sofa is greatly preferable to his stiff and formal perfection seated at a table surrounded by watchful eyes.

He leans forward in his chair and tops up both of their glasses with the remainder of the wine, pausing as he goes to pass Tharkay his glass. His gaze follows the stretched line of his throat, pulled tight where his head has flopped back against the back of the sofa to look at the ceiling.

"Tenzing," he doesn't mean for it to come out in the hoarse scratch that it does. Tharkay rolls his head to the side, pinning him in place with his heavy lidded gaze. A thunderous thudding picks up under his skin, beating hard and loud as his heart rate catches up with his brain, already imagining Tharkay sliding forward and pressing his fingers against Laurence's jaw to drag him closer-

He jerks out of his alcohol enabled fantasy with the touch of Tharkay's fingers against the hand he has curled around the stem of Tharkay's glass and falls abruptly into a new one, updated with glasses swept off the table, tangled fingers and breathy gasps.

The heat of a palm presses against his shoulder, "Laurence!" Tharkay's obviously been trying to catch his attention for awhile going by the worried frown on his face and the hand on his shirt.

"You were quite somewhere else, are you well?"

Laurence flushes slightly in embarrassment and pulls away from the concern, scooping up his glass as he leans back into his chair, relishing in the soft slide of Tharkay's hand as it falls away from his shoulder, trailing partway down his arm before being withdrawn fully. He takes a small sip of wine to try and pull himself together before lifting his head to meet Tharkay's curious eyes.

"My apologies, Tenzing, I find myself more tired than I have any right to be. Political chatter drains me as nothing else has."

He has known Tharkay too long for any offence to be taken from his words, a point proved by Tharkay's careless chuckle and the easy smile he throws his way that warms him like the shielding curve of Temeraire's wing around him.

"Mmmmmm, the treacherous paths of lies and part-truths that make up the halls of Westminster are not for you dear Laurence."

The casual endearment wraps around his foggy head lazily and he knows it's time for him to excuse himself with his treasures from the evening before he inadvertently spoils the mood.

*

Laurence wakes up the following morning only slightly the worse for wear, hungry and thirsty but free from the headache that should be his companion for the day. He glances briefly in a gilt looking glass above the fire place in his room and stops abruptly, Tharkay's comment from the day before flashing to the forefront of his mind. He looks now with a more assessing gaze at his own face, familiar and yet not familiar at all. He looks nothing at all like he feels, the years of tension and fear are long behind him replaced by a sweet harmony and contentment he had learned to stop imagining for himself, but they have left a mark so subtle he hadn't noticed. He looks, for lack of a better work, forbidding.

He frowns at his reflection, watching with a quietly increasing dread as his face takes on a darker tone. The smile he forces next is even worse, he looks almost inhumane and he flinches away from himself hurrying out of the room. He sits across from Tharkay at the breakfast table with a perfunctory greeting, and gets a mocking smile in return.

"It strikes me as cripplingly unfair that despite having imbibed as much as myself, perhaps even more, you appear the picture of vitality and health."

It touches a fresh vulnerability and he can't help the scowl that he sends in response and Tenzing looks at him with such surprise that he feels uncomfortably guilty.

"Perhaps not as tranquil on the inside as on the outside? Here, have some tea," Tharkay murmurs already pushing a cup into Laurence's hands. They sit in silence for a few minutes, Tharkay seemingly unperturbed by his dark mood, before he laughs quietly and looks up at Laurence with a smile.

"It has been many years since I have had such an expression directed at me by the fierce Captain Laurence, I find myself grateful anew for the turn of the tide in my favour."

Tharkay's face takes on an introspective hue and Laurence imagines he is reminiscing on their first few months together. He compares the man sat in front of him, a gentleman dressed in the most up-to-date of fashions, clean and wilful and sharp with the vagabond-like guide who had secured their passage to Turkey, brooding and wilful and just as sharp and he loves him with an almost unbearable ache. Tharkay's gaze suddenly focuses, looking back at him with such intensity that Laurence wonders if perhaps his skin will catch alight from the ferocious attention. He's looking at him as if he can read clean into Laurence's thoughts and for a moment Laurence panics and wonders if he's managed to broadcast his lingering affection on his face before remembering his reflection in the mirror and relaxing.

*

Laurence remains silent on the way back home. He can see Tharkay looking over at him occasionally with curiosity, but he keeps his peace and does not question his poor company for which Laurence cannot help but be grateful. As soon as they land he makes his excuses to spend the remainder of the day with Temeraire in his pavilion, leaving Tharkay to drag himself back to the house and the problems that have no doubt managed to pile up in their absence. Tharkay casts an annoyed glare back at them over his shoulder just as he reaches the curve in the path that will take him out of view and Laurence smiles to himself.

He considers asking Temeraire about it, but imagining the various outcomes horrifies him. Indeed the idea of putting his thoughts into words horrifies him. He quickly gives it up as a lost cause and tries to turn the conversation whenever Temeraire asks him what has upset him.

He decides not to think about his face over much after that. Temeraire has always found it pleasing, and while the favour of one's dragon is somewhat biased, Laurence treasures it regardless. He tries not to think about it, but he can't seem to stop frowning at his reflection wherever he sees it. He feels too foolish to look upon on his reflection and practice smiling, but he finds himself terribly paranoid all of a sudden and whenever he finds himself starting to smile, he tries to cut it off quickly. He knows Tharkay picks up on it, he’s too observant not to, but he says nothing and Laurence is grateful even as he wonders what excuse Tharkay is ascribing to his abruptly shifting expressions.

*

He passes the hallway mirror one afternoon on the way to the pavilion and gives it, it's now customary morning frown.

"Vanity, Laurence? Unexpected, if not unwarranted"

He stops in surprise and glances up from his reflection to Tharkay's, stepping into view behind him and smiles instinctively. Tharkay's grin is a warm, slanted thing and it unfurls something soft and embarrassed within him. There isn't really anything he can offer in response without sounding foolish so instead he looks away, but not before he catches a glance of his own smiling face in the mirror. He turns back abruptly, because this is not the uncomfortable, forced grimace he threw himself in London. It's a face closer to the one he recognises as himself in his mind, softer perhaps than he had thought, but still he looks welcoming and not to put too fine a point on it, he looks quite normal. He realises that perhaps he has been looking at himself a moment too long as Tharkay is now standing close beside him, brows lifted and gaze intense on Laurence's reflection. He nudges Tharkay gently with his shoulder to show that he has re-joined their conversation.

"I daresay we have become old men."

Tharkay offers an incredulous laugh and nudges him back carelessly, unwitting of the flame he has lit down Laurence's arm with his touch, "I should think not!"

He offers Laurence a book arrived just this morning to share with Temeraire before reminding him of him imminent absence to Edinburgh and then moving to return in the direction in which he had come.

Laurence reaches out quickly to lay his hand lightly on Tharkay's forearm before he can disappear, "Will you not take tea with us before you leave?"

Tharkay acquiesces agreeably and before he is even conscious of how it occurred they are sitting across from one another before Temeraire and he is watching him through the steam rising from his cup. He fears to gaze too intently lest the depth of his impossible affection become too apparent, but it is a hardship to turn away from the easy interplay between dragon and man. It is of some great comfort to him that at the very least he is not alone in this, Temeraire loves Tharkay too.

*

Freshly armed, he sits down to breakfast alone the day after Tharkay leaves resolving to appear less stern with the staff. His first opportunity is with the new hall boy, a fellow William, who opens the door once he has finished his meal. It is more of a struggle than he'd anticipated and he has to try and imagine Tharkay's face on the much younger, much shorter boy in front of him which is quite the feat and he fears he is somewhat less than successful.

"Sir," William nods at him looking slightly flustered and discomfited and Laurence nods back deciding he will have to try harder going forward.

*

Mrs. Mitchell knocks and enters the study exactly on the stroke of 11am, she has a love of punctuality that he cannot help but admire. As they do every week, they discuss the week's menu both for Temeraire and for the household to ensure that she can organise the shopping for the week. It is a dull task, most often conducted by the lady of the house, but Tharkay had been a travesty at it and the first ten days after he'd moved in had seen some form of stew served at the dinner table and an increasingly irate cook in the kitchen. The discontent downstairs had spilled over and Laurence had stepped in to the breach, cobbling together vague memories of proper meals at proper dining tables until he gave in and sent to his mother for help.

Now he sits across the desk from Mrs. Mitchell and listens as she lists out their provisions and points out the surplus they will have with Tharkay gone. He smiles at the mention of Tharkay and tries to keep it captured to send to Mrs. Mitchell when she looks up. When she does look up, she abruptly stops talking and blinks rapidly for a few seconds.

"Captain?"

He considers raising his brows at her in query the way Tharkay always does, but decides it is too informal and so instead waits for her to go on. She clears her throat and frowns down at her book before looking up at him again and then back down at her book.

"Is there something amiss?" He asks, now slightly concerned that there has been a miscalculation in the accounts.

She shakes her head and clears her throat, continuing to talk about eggs as if nothing had happened.

*

He smiles at Alice and her little helper as they pass in the herb garden. Alice looks momentarily taken aback, but then both girls beam at him with such warmth that he feels a flutter of happiness in response.

*

When next he is in the stables, he smiles at Tom, the Tenzing smile and Tom looks at him for a long moment, before blushing and smiling back. He counts it as a success.

*

Something is awry in the house, he isn't quite sure what has changed, but everything is just slightly wrong. There is a strange tension in the air, anticipation and dread simultaneously, it prickles as he walks around and he has taken to spending more and more time in Temeraire's pavilion. In an attempt to regain some normalcy, he retreats to the parlour with a book and promises himself he will read at least two chapters before he takes refuge outdoors again.

The Tenzing smile comes more instinctively now after a few days of practice and he uses it absently when he accidentally meets the eye of the young woman who enters as he sits reading in the window seat. She flinches back, probably in surprise at his presence, so he closes his book thinking to leave her in peace to do whatever it is she needs to do, after all, he has long surpassed his self-enforced reading goal.

He stands and moves towards the door, giving her what he imagines is a reassuring smile as he gets closer to her.

"I have a child!"

Laurence tries not to frown in confusion at the woman's sudden declaration, made, one can only imagine to him since he is the only person present. Does he know this woman? He peers at her, trying to place her face while she looks back wild-eyed. "Ah, is... is the child well?" Perhaps she is overcome with some personal grief, he thinks with sympathy noticing the shaking basket in her trembling hands and moving closer so as to catch her were she to faint or falter.

"Yes, he is a healthy bairn."

Despite her words, she seems increasingly distraught and he closes the distance between them and draws her firmly but gently towards a chair. "Perhaps you should sit down a moment," he says hands hovering above her shoulders to encourage her down into the seat.

"I have a husband!"

"Ah, and is your husband well?" Surely the reason for her strange behaviour will become apparent imminently.

She looks positively outraged at the question and he forces himself not to back away like a coward, although he cannot help but glance at the door, for some kind of rescue, preferably Tharkay even if it is with twenty ferals as backup.

"Should I call for some tea? You seem most unsettled." His wish for Tharkay's presence deepens, he really just wants to flee under Temeraire's wing and hide, comforting young ladies for no reason is not his forte.

"Please sir, I am an honest, God-fearing woman!" She promptly bursts into hysterical tears shying away from him like a captured rabbit.

He almost leaps away in his haste to get away, "I'll send for the housekeeper," he manages to say before fleeing the parlour for under the stairs in the hopes of encountering Mrs. Mitchell.

Instead he bumps into Alice who is an infinitely sensible child and upon seeing his harrowed expression seats him at the kitchen table with a strangely tiny tumbler of port and a plate of ginger biscuits before hastening to the parlour herself to see what the trouble is. He's not sure what has happened since Tharkay left, but surely it is not only his own longing causing his malcontent, the house has fallen quite to pieces without him.

*

Tharkay returns to chaos.

*

Laurence backs away from the baker's daughter, frantically looking for an orderly exit. His back is almost against the wall, a hydrangea bush in full flower blocks him from one side and somehow he had only smiled and stepped aside off the path to allow her to pass and now he is being trapped by a tiny frame with wide doe eyes. Is she unaware of the impropriety? He makes an aborted attempt at a sidestep and suddenly she is there, head tipped up to look at him, one hand on his chest, the other still holding her empty basket.

He vaguely hopes she has a knife, because the alternative is both too scandalous and mortifying for him to deal with right now.

"Jenny!"

Like the saviour he is, Tharkay appears on the path behind the girl and calls her attention away. She steps back quickly to a safe distance and Laurence breathes easy once again. Tharkay is deliciously wind swept, his hair soft and wild, his face a perfectly flushed rose of exertion, the familiar sardonic slant of his mouth achingly endearing. He tries to convey his gratitude without also conveying his admiration and must admit to some uncertainty as to the success of the endeavour as Tharkay stares back at him for almost too long with the slightest hint of a frown.

"And how is your father?" Laurence must have missed some of the conversation in his contemplation, because Tharkay has already led Jenny down the path away from the house, away from Laurence. He watches them walking in front of him, Tharkay bending his head to lean closer to her, an ever attentive companion, and indeed how does Tharkay even know her name?

As they reach the boundary of the flower beds, Tharkay stops and she walks on without him. Laurence feels brave enough to pick up speed and stand alongside him, though he regrets it immediately when she turns around suddenly to stop and look back at them.

"Goodbye, Captain." She smiles at him, coy and flirtatious and the blood rushes straight to his face, he can feel the heat of his blush prickling all the way down his neck and he only just manages a half hearted nod at her before she turns back around towards the village, hips swinging, confident of her allure.

He feels the weight of Tharkay's gaze and turns to meet it, hoping some of his embarrassment will fade away. Of course, Tharkay is openly laughing at him, mirth shining in his dark brown eyes and Laurence is helpless but to smile in response to his joy.

Tom walks by at that very moment, coils of rope looped over one very tan, muscled naked bicep, "Captain!" he calls coming over to them, "I've got the new harness ready for weight testing, just going to set it up now" he shrugs to indicate the rope he is carrying and Laurence looks pointedly over his shoulder instead of noticing the stretch and clench of pectoral muscles at the motion. He cannot imagine why Tom would choose today of all days to go shirtless, despite the bright light of the sun, the wind is quite brisk and unforgiving.

Tharkay reaches out to lift a coil of rope from Tom's shoulder, and for a drawn out moment he is captivated by the sight of skin against skin, Tharkay's long brown fingers against the smooth gold of Tom's arm and it is hypnotising. What would Tharkay's hands look like upon him? He is not so tanned as Tom, nor so smooth, in fact exactly where Tharkay's fingers rest on Tom, Laurence has a thin scar from a rope burn he had received over 25 years earlier in a rigging mishap.

Both have turned and are looking at him with matching, speculative, assessing stares. He backs up defensively, "Well, I think I will-" he gestures absently and moves to take his leave.

"Oh, no Will, I have only just returned, won't you stay a while longer. Surely there is some news to be shared?" Tharkay steps clean away from Tom, back into Laurence's space, releasing a flutter of butterflies low in his stomach. "Thank you Tom, I am sure Laurence will be by later to observe proceedings."

Tom shoots a flustered, guilty look at Tharkay before he nods and carries on towards the stables and workrooms behind Temeraire's pavilion.

"Tom aswell," Tharkay murmurs incredulously at him and he responds the only way he can, with feigned confusion.

Tharkay laughs then, a lovely, low curl of sweetness, not unlike Temeraire's pleased rumbles when he was but a dragonet.

"Laurence," Tharkay drags his name out with a heavy drawl, "How absolutely shocking of you, taking advantage of my absence to seduce all the staff and locals."

He promptly scowls in response and Tharkay lets out a peel of perfect laughter, head thrown back to expose the vulnerable curve of his throat, a hand clasped around Laurence's arm to steady himself and his whole body shivers in response.

***

Tharkay had meant it as a joke, how could he have possibly known that it would be true and that somehow Laurence had turned his estate into disarray after only a week of his absence?

*

Laurence had hoped the return of Tharkay would settle things, but he was quite thoroughly mistaken on that point. If anything, he had somehow manage to create further upheaval simply by his presence.

The staff cast looks of guilty sympathy at Tharkay when they pass him, taking extra care in their interactions with him, as though he were suffering under some great illness. Despite Laurence's menu, they somehow get served stew three days in a row, much to his own bafflement and Tharkay's also if his quizzical expression across the dining table is to be trusted.

The discontent is pervasive and it is not long before Tharkay too is spending his days with a furrowed brow and anxious eyes. Somehow the hours that they would have usually spent together have started to disappear. Long walks around the grounds, reading with Temeraire, flying to distant caves and forests and beaches all become things he does alone.

*

"Oh, Laurence, I was just looking for you!" Tharkay says, except he has just walked into him because he wasn't looking. Deciding against being facetious about it, Laurence doesn't mention it, merely nods his interest.

Tharkay looks as discomfited as he has ever seen him. "Laurence, perhaps..." he trails off uncertainly and turns away to gaze out of the window.

"Perhaps?" he prompts after it seems like Tharkay isn't going to finish the thought out loud.

Tharkay's gaze flits briefly to him before he turns away fully and gestures at the pavilion, "Perhaps we can take tea together with Temeraire this evening."

It is certainly not what Tharkay had intended to say and it cuts Laurence short, because Tharkay is a consummate, infallible actor, a smooth liar that would bring any interrogator to tears and this is a terrible, horrible, obvious attempt to misdirect. Tharkay knows immediately what he's done and looks at Laurence with an apologetic expression, "we can talk later." It's an offer of appeasement and Laurence tries to accept it with good grace, "Of course, Tenzing."

Tharkay flinches visibly at the use of his name and his apologetic expression slides into one of discomfort before he shakes himself off and takes his leave.  
Laurence is not surprised when they do not take tea together with Temeraire or talk later.

It does seem like he intends to bring up whatever is on his mind at some point. Laurence catches him looking at him pensively on numerous occasions, sometimes going so far as to open his mouth as if to say something important only to pause and say something different. He wonders if he should push the matter, but Tharkay has seemed so uncomfortable that it seems easier and no doubt more gentlemanly to wait until Tharkay is ready to broach whatever topic lies so heavily on his thoughts. He wonders, not for the first time if he has slipped up somewhere and Tharkay has taken notice of his affections. He wonders if Tharkay intends to ask him to leave.

*

It comes to head over a game of chess and a glass or two of port one evening.

Tharkay is focused on the game with an unnatural intensity, eyes on the board and only the board, mind who knows where because he has just moved his bishop one place to the right on to a black square.

Laurence wavers over calling him out on it, but uncertain how the game can continue with both Tharkay’s bishops on black squares. He resolves to say something when he is saved by Tharkay suddenly reaching for his port, draining his glass and then placing it back on the table with a heavy clink.

“Will” he finally declares at their chess game

“Yes,” he responds with relief

“Do you find yourself missing companionship?”

“No,” Laurence answers dubiously, “I am more than contented to share my time with you and Temeraire and we have plenty of visitors.”

He can tell this is not the way Tharkay wants the conversation to go so he flips the question back wondering if he is holding some pent up loneliness..

“We are not speaking of me! We are talking about you!”

Laurence leans away from the robust response, feeling uncertain and rather like he should prefer to be in bed right now. Tharkay scowls at the board and moves his other bishop on to a white square which is simply untenable.

“Tenzing, you simply cannot swap your bishop-”

Tharkay knocks over his King, Queen and a stray Knight caught in the sweep of his hand.

“Will, forgive me the intrusion, but that is not the type of companionship I meant.”

He lowers his brow at him meaningfully and discomfort spreads over Laurence’s skin like an itch. Tharkay looks like he is about to say more, God forbid, pose the question more explicitly, so Laurence cuts him off abruptly.

“No.”

“But-”

“No.”

“Will.”

And now finally Tenzing is meeting his eyes, looking for the secrets he hides so carefully. Tharkay gives in first, closing his eyes and slumping back into his chair to rub his face with both hands. Laurence dares not move.

“Forgive me, I will retire for the evening,” Tharkay eventually murmurs rising from his chair and leaving the room.

Laurence drinks another glass of port too quickly and stumbles to bed, unsure if he has executed himself well, but hopeful that whatever concerns Tharkay has been holding within are assuaged.

It only takes as long as a greeting over the lunch table in the morrow to realise that everything did not come to head the night before. Tharkay is still uncertain, occupied with his thoughts and Laurence is still the cause.

*

"Temeraire," he whispers stepping into the dark pavilion carefully so as not to trip on anything.

"Laurence, what is the matter?" Temeraire's voice is anxious and Laurence immediately regrets his decision to come in so late in the night and with such secrecy.

"Nothing is awry, my dear, I only hoped to spend some time with you this evening, sleep eludes me this night I’m afraid. I did not intend to disturb your rest, I can return to the-"

"Nonsense Laurence, you will stay with me."

He finds himself once more pathetically grateful to have Temeraire's unquestioning regard. They shuffle quietly in the dark falling easily into a familiar position.  
Temeraire lets him sit quietly for a few minutes before he shifts his head slightly to nudge him gently, "Laurence, are you sure you are well? You have been out of sorts recently."

A clawing guilt rises in his throat for having given Temeraire reason to worry. "Temeraire," his voice drops, and he wonders if he can even be heard over the thumping of his own heart, "how would you feel about leaving here?"

Temeraire goes from gentle worry to furious without a pause and Laurence jerks upright to place both his hands on Temeraire's warm muzzle wishing he'd taken the time to build up to this.

"Wait, wait, Temeraire, it's not-"

"Isn't it? You have been low with melancholy and Tharkay too carries it with him. Something has happened. He's hurt you."

Laurence blinks in surprise at the conclusion. It's wrong, but it's at least a little comforting.

"No, Temeraire, it is nothing of the sort, I had thought perhaps we had stayed longer than we ought?" He hates to burden Temeraire with these thoughts, but he knows the household staff are looking at him differently, Tharkay is looking at him differently and he knows not what he has done, but the best thing would surely be to excuse himself from the situation.

"Tharkay has asked us to leave? Why has he not said something to me himself? Has he tired of our company?"

Laurence likes the easy way Temeraire considers them as a pair, never considering that perhaps it is Laurence alone with which Tharkay might have a problem.

"My dear, Tenzing has said nothing, he is far too chivalrous for such a thing."

"Then he has made you feel like we are unwelcome in other ways," Temeraire's grumble is angry and unjustified, for in truth Tharkay has done nothing wrong, and it is only Laurence's own uncertain thoughts that has led to his certainty that at some point Tharkay is going to have to force himself to ask them to go. Laurence is regretful once more for ever saying anything.

"Temeraire, please, be calm, he bears no fault here. It was a thought I wished to share with you, only."

"Laurence, if you are unhappy here we can go wherever will please you." The words echo Laurence's own feelings, but Temeraire is happy here but for Laurence's own sudden discomfort. He sighs heavily and rests against Temeraire's arm again, "Let us think on it?"

Temeraire huffs in agreement and lowers his head, watching him in the dim light of the moon.

*

Laurence loves breakfast. It is an interlude solely of himself and Tharkay and somehow in the morning, the darkness that sometimes haunts his sleep is chased away. Tharkay is soft and sleep-touched in the pale yellow light spilling through the window and he isn't sure that he can go back to a life without this, the easy peace that has come into existence between them, the implacable confidence in another, the warmth of a companionship nurtured by time and unbound by the strictures of society.

"In what deep contemplation do you find yourself this morning, Captain?"

Without his notice, Tharkay has turned his regard back on him, a heavy lidded gaze that makes him want to pull him into his arms and hide under a tangle of sheets. He can feel his face heat slightly, and shakes his head at the query.

Josie enters with a freshly brewed pot of tea, a stream of steam just visible drifting out of the spout. He smiles at Tharkay, another cup of tea seems just about the most perfect thing to round off the morning. He proffers his cup and saucer for Josie to fill and turns to offer his thanks.

"Laurence!"

Tharkay is suddenly very awake, looking at him with wide, betrayed eyes and Laurence looks back uncertain as to what could have caused the exclamation.

"Whatever do you mean by-" he cuts himself off abruptly

"Sir," Josie says to Tharkay in impassioned misery, "I would never- have never-"

He makes his decision in that moment, frustrated that the insanity had infringed on his sanctuary of breakfast.

*

"Laurence, what-"

Tharkay slams through the open doorway as if propelled from behind then stops halfway into the room. He looks at the half-packed bag and then up at Laurence and the open look of shocked distress on his face spikes straight through him.

They stare silently at each other and he realises that Tharkay had never intended to ask him to leave. It fills him with a surge of relief so sweet he's almost certain he needs to sit down. The snarl of misery and confusion in his chest untangles slightly and he half wonders how he has managed to think himself into such a dark spiral.

Tharkay manages to gain some control over his thoughts and his face is a blank mask once again but Laurence remembers the hurt in his eyes and it settles him enough to face the conversation to be had. "Where are you going?" Tharkay's voice is a bit rough, still a little vulnerable and Laurence gives in and sits on the edge of the bed.

"I had thought to visit my mother." He doesn't offer a timeframe out of guilt and embarrassment and he finds himself unable to look away from the cupboard. Had he really thought to disappear as a thief in the night giving no thought to his dearest friend?

"Laurence," he can hear Tharkay shifting in his room and he knows he should look at him, "I hope..." Tharkay trails off and Laurence cannot help but turn to look at him, because there was a time when to him at least, Tharkay would always say what he meant and somehow in the last two weeks that has changed.

His eyes are locked on the painting above the bed and his hands are twining together in front of him, twisting and tugging together. "I hope that nothing has happened, or, or that I have not said or done something that should make you feel like you cannot stay here." The words sound like they are strangling him and Laurence has to stop himself from hiding his face in his hands.

"No, Tenzing, it is not that," he lies, "it is only that I should like to see my family. And. Now seems to be a good time for it."

At that, Tharkay's gaze drops to his and his mouth twists with such misery, that he thinks momentarily that there is nothing he would not do to make it go away, to make things between them anew.

He stands up to continue packing and Tharkay stands stiffly in the doorway watching him as if to reassure himself that Laurence was not packing everything. It’s stiff and uncomfortable, but it’s also reassuring.

Tharkay walks with him to the pavilion, carrying a bag that Laurence could easily have carried himself. Laurence watches him as he says his goodbyes to Temeraire, he looks uncertain and unhappy and when he comes to Laurence to do the same he still looks faintly anxious, like he wants to touch him. In the end he does, places a hand heavy on his shoulder and looks him straight in the eye.

"I will see you soon."

His grip tightens like he's trying to press Laurence into staying, like he's certain that he isn't going to be back. Laurence tries to smile reassuringly, but he knows what his smile looks like these days and he's not sure it conveys. He wonders if perhaps he should touch him back. But no, that would be too telling. He can think of no words that could suitably fill the space and so instead they simply look at one another.

"Laurence?" Temeraire has noticed the delay and turned to look at the silent stand-off.

Laurence nods sharply at Tharkay and takes a step backwards, away from the invasive, seeping heat of his hand.

"Take care of yourself," he murmurs before turning his back and making his way in to the harness.

*

Laurence hears Arkady long before he sees him and he can feel his palms prickle with possibility. There’s no guarantee that his rider is Tharkay, but surely it could be no other? Anticipation builds in him, surely, hopefully, in one way or another surely the twisting heartache he’s been carrying will be settled.

When he finds him, Tharkay is perched on the edge of a cart outside the stables, hunched over and looking impossibly defeated. Laurence watches him for as long as he dares, taking note of the exhaustion in his posture and the sharpened hollows of shadow on his face.

Tharkay inevitably notices and looks up at him with a deep sigh.

"You said you were going to come home."

He had intended to, that was certain. He’d left most of his belongings and still found himself looking for clothes or books. But a week had turned into two, had turned into his mother suggesting a trip to the south coast which had stretched it into an extra month and then going back had seemed like a mountain too insurmountable. For some reason, Temeraire had allowed it, he hadn’t mentioned going back to try Tom’s new harness or his cozy pavilion, hadn’t talked about how he missed Tenzing’s cooks, his books, his voice, his company.

"I would not have you unhappy, Will, I urge you to do whatever it is that brings your heart the greatest peace, for you are far more deserving, than many who have achieved it. And if that means you do not return, then so be it."

Laurence moves closer, caught off-guard by the rush of words, but of course Tenzing will have been thinking about what to say, would have planned how this encounter should go.

"Only, I would not wish to be without your company either and I hope that if you choose to leave and it is not me that has caused you to do so. And…”  
He trails off and looks away uncertainly.

“And providing Temeraire is amenable, you would consider taking me with you. Truly, I can no longer see an existence for me without you."

Laurence is only barely cognisant of his actions as he pulls Tharkay up from his seat and drags him into his arms. He allows himself a stretched moment of indulgence, of holding him close enough to feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes before he pulls away.

“Tenzing, I’m sorry, it was never my intention to leave, only it seemed like there was something most peculiar in the air and everyone was so unhappy. And I feared returning where I was unwanted.”

Tharkay sighs even deeper than he had earlier and sits back down on the cart. "It is the most silly of things. I'm sorry I made it worse."

Laurence battles the urge to sit next to him having spent so many days sitting alone, but succumbs to the desire when it seems Tharkay isn’t going to continue.

"I talked to Mrs. Mitchell. She suggested that you had been looking for company with the household staff."

Laurence stares at Tharkay blankly for a long moment, his mind working through the sentence and a screaming horror filling the silence in his mind as the implications of his words sink in. He thinks back to their bizarre conversation about companionship and feels queasy imagining the thoughts that had been passing through Tharkay’s head.

Tharkay lurches to suddenly capture Laurence's wrist and hold him in place before he can put some distance between them and gain some thinking space. “Peace Laurence, I know it’s not that. Truly. It is only that you have been so careless with that smile of yours that all the village is undone in the lust of you. Half the household is in fear of being seduced by you and the other half awaits said seduction with baited breath.”

Laurence huffs a disbelieving laugh at the outlandish suggestion. “Oh yes? And in which half do you belong?”

He feels Tenzing tense behind him and regrets the joke immediately. He wants to backtrack, brush it off, but Tharkay is still holding his wrist and pulls until he is facing him.

Desperately slowly, certain but nervous, Tenzing leans forward and Laurence’s breath has stopped in his throat. He pauses only once to bite at his lower lip and Laurence can't help himself but watch the flash of teeth as they sink in to the plump curve. The look must give Tenzing courage since he closes the space between them with much less trepidation.

The first brush of their lips is feather light, barely a touch, but Laurence feels it like a blade in his chest. A moment that cannot be changed, no undoing, no return. Under the bright afternoon sun there is only one interpretation.

Tharkay pulls back slightly and Laurence cannot think of ever a time when he has seen such naked fear on his face. So now it’s his turn to be brave, although it doesn’t feel like bravery when he kisses him. He feels bold and reckless, happy. He lets the hand not clasped in Tharkay’s hand lift to his face, cupping his cheek, dragging his thumb over the soft skin under his jaw. Unmistakeable.

The snort of a dragon makes him jerk away and cools him like the up-splash of a wave against the hull and he looks around anxiously for any watchers. To be caught… it hardly bears thinking about. And somehow despite the spike of fear and the nervous energy coursing through him, he cannot help but look at Tharkay and smile.

Tharkay grins back at him, warm and open and everything he wants.

“Will, I’m going to have to ask you to be more careful with that smile of yours. I don’t want to be fighting off all your would-be conquests day and night.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't already stumbled your way there, join the Discord for fun Temeraire shennanigans! https://discord.gg/WwtNnBE


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